On The Outside
by HopelesslyUnfinished
Summary: Stephen Strange decided he to take up Tony Stark's invitation to go to the Avengers compound. He wanted see for himself what these people were like when not under the threat of world annihilation. Unannounced, of course. And possibly invisible. It might be safer. (7 chapters on the off-duty interactions of the Avengers.)
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a slight AU that is idyllically set after Infinity War, but with everyone in perfect health. There should be no major spoilers or direct references to the events of Infinity War, but general references to all MCU properties, characters, and state of beings as of publication date are present.

* * *

"The Avengers," Strange muttered to himself as he googled them. Yes, he had heard all about them through the media and in all the times their paths had crossed. However, from everything he had heard and seen, he could not understand how this team of misfits hadn't completely torn itself apart once and for all. He had studied each of them individually to determine their place in everything, but still need to review them as a whole. While the group had massive public disagreements, somehow, they always seemed to end up back together despite massively differing opinions. Watching a compilation video someone had made of all the times a member of the team had publicly ridiculed another, Strange was beginning to doubt that any of them even liked each other. He shut off the video and decided that since the other dimensions seemed to be calm for the moment, he would take up Tony Stark's invitation to go to the Avengers compound and see for himself what these people were like when not under the threat of world annihilation.

Unannounced, of course. And possibly invisible. It might be safer.

* * *

Strange heard the closest set of Avengers before he could see them. A young woman seemed to be arguing loudly with Dr. Banner. He hurried to the room, hoping that the young woman in modern Wakandan clothing knew better than to push Bruce over the edge. Dr. Banner seemed to be confused, which felt like a warning sign.

"That shouldn't work."

"It does with my discoveries."

"But it shouldn't. I'm not saying it can't, just that the amount of energy stored..."

"...should be impossible. Yes, I heard you. What? Do you think because I'm a little girl that I can't understand the principles?"

"No, I think of you as a scientist that seems to have broken physics and I'm just trying to catch up. Do you realize I've only had a short time to catch up on all the data you've released with bringing Wakandan technology into the open? All I'm asking is for a chance to catch up before you start ridiculing me."

Bruce looked severely irritated and slammed the data pad onto the desk. Strange watched as Shuri's faced dawned a look of comprehension rather than terror at Bruce's anger. She tilted her head and waited until Bruce regained his composure. Shuri smiled at him with curiosity.

"Bruce, do you have any siblings?"

Dr. Banner seemed taken aback.

"No, I don't. Why?"

She sat down at the table across from him and began tinkering with robotic pieces laying around a teardrop shaped device, not looking at Bruce, who remained standing.

"I'm not arguing with you to make you mad or to act superior. I'm just teasing you like I harmlessly tease my brother. The difference is that he is used to being able to tell the difference between when I'm playing or being totally serious."

Bruce sighed and sat down opposite her. She continued using the tools scattered around them, focused on the item between them.

"I would not tease you if I didn't respect you."

She began to pat the table to her left, feeling around for a screwdriver that had rolled away. Bruce slid it into her reach.

"You respect me?"

She finally looked up at him only to roll her eyes.

"The only person you can tell that to is Tony Stark and only to deflate his ego."

"Deal." Bruce laughed, and they shook hands in a mock pact. He continued to help her and pass her tools wordlessly. She chattered about what she was doing and why she was doing it in a lighthearted manner. It seemed more for herself than Bruce, despite him hanging on her every word. Finally, the small device began floating slowly into the air, stopping to rest at their eye-level. Bruce looked at it, then at Shuri, who seemed to be waiting for a reaction. Bruce shrugged.

"It's okay, I guess."

She looked shocked and then tossed a sponge at him. He threw up his arms in defense.

"I'm kidding! It's amazing!"

She continued to toss every harmless item near her at him. He kept laughing and dodging until he fell on the floor. Shuri leaned over the table to make sure he was okay only to see him disheveled and laughing harder than he had in a long time. She rolled her eyes and walked around the table, offering an arm to help him up. He wheezed slightly as he stood, holding his chest that ached from laughing.

"You know, most people would not take their chance throwing things at me."

"If throwing little things like this at you makes you hulk out than you have thinner skin than I thought. I didn't even consider it."

"What would have done if I had?" asked Bruce with an air of false disinterest.

Shuri returned to their small floating object, poking it with a tool to make it change color.

"Do you ask everyone that?"

Bruce was caught off guard again.

"What?"

"I said do you need your hearing checked?"

Bruce gave her a sour look that she ignored.

"I just want to make sure everyone has a plan to stay safe from me when they're around me because I won't be able to help them against the Other Guy,"

Shuri seemed to think for a moment.

"No, I don't have a plan."

Bruce gaped.

"I think you'll agree that every moment our situation changes, and my reaction would be different each time. Just know that generally speaking you don't scare me, and you have more control than you realize, so never ask me that again."

Bruce regarded the scientist across from him for a long enough silence that she finally gave in and looked up at him.

"If you keep this up, I'm going to give you a hearing test for real."

Bruce shook his head.

"Fine, I accept your premise."

"That you're hard of hearing? I bet Hawkeye..."

"No," said Bruce exasperatedly, "that I unfairly evaluate my friends based on how afraid of me they are and I'll try to stop."

"Accepting my statement means you will stop. None of this 'trying' business."

Bruce chuckled.

"Okay, okay. I will stop."

Shuri nodded once and returned to the small object that had started flying in lazy loop-de-loops. She started muttering to it as she poked it again.

"Trying, yeah, trying my patience."

"You do realize I can hear you?"

He realized what he had said and closed his eyes waiting for the retort.

"OH! You can hear me?"

"How do I get you to stop teasing me?"

Strange left the laboratory, satisfied that their argument would not result in an angry green rampage. Bruce made an understandable argument, but he appreciated the frankness of Shuri's response. He personally wasn't entirely sure what he would do if the Hulk appeared, but knew his own safety was the least of his concerns. He followed the hallway back toward a main living space, planning on finding a larger group of people to observe.

* * *

Bruce & Shuri

Sibling Rivalry/Healthy Competition

Dedicated to the friend that is as close as family and afraid of themself.

Inspired tonally by The West Wing.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

Strange found the main living area, which was full of open space and multiple levels. There were comfortable couches, televisions, and an entire kitchen along one wall rather than just a bar. There seemed to be no work spaces, unlike the rest of the house, which seemed to have a desk or table every few feet. This room clearly had the purpose of imposed relaxation and community.

It was also seemed like a complete mess that was halfway clean. The kitchen was covered in dirty dishes that had been collected from every other surface in the building. A mountain of clean laundry, with the most eclectic items in it, was heaped on a couch. A robot arm was slowly cleaning every square inch of the dining room table in the background with precise detail. A woman's voice that Strange knew as Black Widow's was barking orders at the machine, pointing out from a distance that he had missed a spot. He moved to see that she was on the opposite end of the couch closest to the kitchen wall, beginning to fold the clothing and place them in piles. A man came into the room, balancing a precarious stack of dishes on his way to set them on the kitchen island. He was muttering grumpily.

"Remind me to tell Thor and Tony not to leave dishes in their rooms. I get that maybe that's not a problem in another realm with servants, but Tony ought to know better."

"Rhodey, if you had a dollar for every time you thought Tony Stark should know better, how much money would you have?"

He didn't even pause.

"Nat, I actually took a tally once and did the math. I'd be richer than Tony and could pay him to know better."

She cracked a smile as she checked the tag on one of the endless pairs of jeans she was folding, determining which Avenger it belonged to based on measurements. Rhodey began organizing the dirty dishes on the island so he could see what he was dealing with as the sink filled with water.

A body-less voice echoed slightly in the room.

"Colonel Rhodes and Ms. Romanov, in an analysis of your actions, it would be more efficient to use the dishwasher and to have the clothing sent on the usual dry-cleaning run."

Rhodey responded to F.R.I.D.A.Y. as he added soap to the water.

"I got you, but sometimes it's relaxing to just do some chores yourself. A little elbow grease is good for you."

"Most of this laundry is personal items and favorites anyway, better to have it stay in house. It was hard enough to get these things out of their rooms to wash, much less the compound."

"Understood." F.R.I.D.A.Y. returned to silence that Strange could have sworn implied confusion had it not been a computer. Leave it to Tony Stark to invent A.I.s that expressed feelings.

He watched Natasha and Rhodey work in comfortable silence, occasionally with Nat verifying whose clothing belonged to whom from Rhodey. Stephen Strange normally wouldn't have stuck around to watch two people do simple chores, but it was interesting to see two of the world's highest trained combatants find chores to be a respite. He wondered if it was the closest they came to relaxation as people who never stopped working.

"Rhodey, do you know whose shirt this is?"

Nat held up a plain grey men's t-shirt with the tag removed. Rhodey turned around and looked at it blankly.

"I honestly have no idea, it could belong to almost any of the guys. Although it would probably be loose on the smaller guys or tight on Thor."

"Thanks, that's helpful," she said in a flat tone.

"Hey, I do what I can. You could ask around."

Nat seemed to think for a moment before putting the shirt on over her own shirt and lounge pants. It came down to mid-thigh like a dress. Rhodey watched her return to folding the laundry as he picked up more dishes and tossed them into the suds. His curiosity got the better of him.

"What are you doing?"

"If I wear the shirt, eventually someone will ask why I'm wearing their shirt and I can return it."

"Doesn't that defeat the point of washing it?"

"If they didn't want someone else to wear it, they'd put their name in it. Not to mention I don't have to waste time asking."

Rhodey returned to scrubbing.

"How many grown men do you know that label their clothing?"

"Peter Parker's are labelled and so are Clint's."

"Peter has an aunt and Clint probably had you pull this 'wear the clothes I can't identify' stunt before. What are you going to do if no one claims it today?"

Nat chuckled and started folding Thor's cape over a hanger.

"Keep wearing it."

"I bet you $50 that you end up wearing that shirt for three more days before someone asks for it."

"I think it will take less and let's make it $100."

They nodded and returned to their chores. The laundry pile was nearly half the size by now with a dozen smaller folded piles placed all around the spy in arms reach. They had started on the coffee table, but were now along the back of the couch, the side table, and arm. Each of the more precarious stacks were perfectly balanced and every piece was folded with the same accuracy.

Rhodes had a process of washing each of the same set of dishes at a time and letting them dry while he began the next set. While the second set dried, he put away the first to clear the space for more drying dishes. He'd finished with all the cups and started on the plates. He seemed to be leaving silverware and large baking dishes for last. Strange wondered how they had managed to dirty so many dishes, before recalling an invitation to an impromptu feast last night he'd avoided out of habit.

"Are you even going to try to clean the pans Thor used to cook?"

"Look, I'm gonna admit this to only you, Nat. I'm a little concerned that if my simple midgardian teeth couldn't even chew the food last night, that I have no clue if I'll be able to scrub it out of the pan. I'm just hoping he greased the pans or Tony's buying us all new ones."

"Yea, I could have done with more of a fair warning on whatever that fish was, spicy was the last thing I was expecting."

"Right! I was about ready to go on hulk-alert when it was too much for Bruce and he spent years eating food in India."

"I have to say, I really enjoyed the Wakanda delicacies. I wish I had known Thor and T'Challa were sharing a kitchen yesterday, I wouldn't have picked up that morning mission to Manitoba. Watching them cook together leading up to the feast must have been something."

"Ask Shuri to show you her videos. I told her she needs to post it as "In The Kitchen With Super Royals."

"What did she say to that?"

"She made a face and said she would as soon as I came up with a better title."

Nat laughed, and they started spit balling more bad titles. Eventually she settled on "Cooking with Kings" while Rhodey preferred "Royal Pans". Rhodey had cleared away all the dishes and left the worst of the pans to soak, so he went over to the couch to help Nat pair all the socks.

Strange moved closer to stand behind the couch, regarding the two warriors sitting on either end of the couch folding socks. They unspokenly began tossing each other the heroes' socks whose piles were closer to the other person or if they saw a matching sock the other person needed. The efficiency made short work of the remaining pile; a few single socks remained and were sorted to the people they belonged to. Strange looked at the piles of folded clothing, trying to figure out which ones belonged to which Avenger. There were very few costume items, like Thor's cape, so it made it a little more challenging by looking at the more civilian clothing. The small pile of Avenger's themed clothing, all the way down to the socks, seemed most likely to belong to the young Spider-man. There were many piles of men's jeans and t-shirts that he assumed Nat had organized by size and style, but he could only guess as to their owners by the imagery. He was intrigued by the variety of band t-shirts each pile had, perhaps if he ever attended one of their group events he could at least have an intelligent conversation based on that.

"So, what do you plan on doing with these piles now that they're folded?"  
"I just leave them in alcoves outside everyone's room, the last place anyone wants me is snooping through their room."  
"I just assume you already have."

"Oh, I have, but this is leaving evidence and it makes everyone more comfortable. Do you want help scrubbing the pans before I leave to put these away?"

"If you don't mind."

"My pleasure. It's the least I can do after the guerrilla sock folding."

Strange decided he wasn't curious enough to stay for the aggressive pan scrubbing of Asgardian leftovers. It was humanizing to see these two work together on constructive rather than destructive tasks.

Although the sound of a glass pan breaking behind him as he left might suggest the opposite.

* * *

Natasha & Rhodes

Camaraderie

Dedicated to the workaholic friend that rests by doing slightly less than usual and makes work go faster by reading my mind.

Inspired by the break between two-show days in a theater.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I have all the seven parts of this story written, I'm just taking the time to edit them and attempting to post them within 24 hours of each other. All the parts will be posted, so please don't worry about this becoming an unfinished fic! (Despite my ominous author's name...)

Chapter 3

Stephen decided on a whim to turn down a hallway lined with windows to continue his tour. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed a wide view, overseeing the grounds of the Avengers compound. Tony had the place designed with plenty of outdoor space for a variety of purposes, mainly related to flying and field sports.

He continued down the curving hall before spotting a man sitting against the wall halfway down the corridor and talking into his phone. He appeared to be sweaty from an exercise of some sort and was still in the Ant-Man uniform, although without the helmet sitting next to him. It appeared that he had taken an important video call on the way back to his room and made himself comfortable where he was. Strange wracked his brain trying to remember the man's name until he recalled a news story he'd seen about Scott Lang.

"What do you mean you 'only' second place? That practically makes you a genius, but without the annoying parts of fame."

Strange moved closer and leaned against the wall to Lang's left to see who he was talking to on the phone. A little girl that must be his daughter was on the screen with a smaller rectangle showing Scott's reflection. She was FaceTiming while lying on her stomach on her bed, kicking her legs absentmindedly behind her.

"I should have made a baking soda volcano."

"Is that what won?"

"Yeah. The lava had glitter in it, like that's scientifically accurate."

"What a cheap trick. Clearly you were robbed of the title, but I think your project had better scientific evidence."

The little girl perked up, "Me too! They were impressed that I referenced the new Wakadan technology in my notes. The one judge said it showed that I had…" she paused, screwing up her face to remember, "...a firm grasp on emerging technological advancements."

"See, pure genius. I bet volcano kid can't even spell Wakanda."

"He won the spelling bee this year, so I think he can."

"Um, does this kid have any other hobbies aside from winning?"

"Nah, but he's moving at the end of the year, so we're all excited."

"Maybe excited is the wrong word?"

"Nope."

Scott sighed, parenting wasn't easy. He was kind of glad the kid was leaving himself.

"Well, try to be nice to him until then. It might hurt his feelings to know everyone wants him to leave."

"Oh."

He waited while she considered this fact.

"I'll make sure my friends don't say anything."

"Good girl."

"Hey there, Scott!"

Scott and the unseen Strange looked up to see Clint walking up, angling his own phone camera toward himself in the universal sign of FaceTiming. He was still in his own combat uniform, clearly coming from practicing or maybe even a mission. He turned the camera toward Scott with practiced accuracy.

"Say hello to Uncle Scott, kiddos!"

A huddle of three little faces squeezed into the screen shouting a jumble of greetings to Scott, who smiled and waved to Clint's kids enthusiastically.

"Look who it is, Cassie! Hawkeye and the Hawklings!"

Clint laughed and slid down to sit on the floor to Scott's right. They had their phones facing each other so their kids could talk. Both dads were stifling laughs as the kids asked each other about their dads' superpowers with excitement. Strange had backed away and sat across from the two fathers, his back to the window and his sense of wonder overpowering the feeling that he was intruding. The pride on both Scott and Clint's faces was evident as their kids raved about how both of them were great.

"...and then your dad got super huge! It was so cool!" shouted Lila.

"You should have seen what he did to my train set!"

"What! A giant train!" asked Cooper wildly.

Clint shook his head and mouthed to Scott, "Is my kid the only one that doesn't know trains are normally full sized?"

Scott smiled and shrugged.

"Yea, but I was just glad he was there to save me."

"I know what you mean," said Lila.

"I like when dad can come home," mumbled Cooper, completely offscreen. Clint heard Nathaniel babble in the background.

Strange saw a look of homesickness cross the heroes' faces; both stopped meeting each other's eye. Scott angled their phones so the kids could see both him and Clint.

"Maybe we can try to set up a day to get you guys to play with each other sometime," offered Scott.

"Yea!" added Clint, "Maybe Scott and Cassie can come out to the farm for a weekend."

He added a look to Scott to ask if that could work; he wasn't sure about Scott's home life. Scott nodded, knowing he could work something out with Maggie and Jim. The kids, meanwhile, were very excited at the idea and immediately asked if the other Avengers could come to play. Clint chuckled and said he would ask.

"I'm sure Auntie Nat would love a vacation. She started folding everyone's laundry again."

The kids giggled at his odd sentence. Cooper's face filled the screen.

"Can you see if the wizard would come?"

"You mean Dr. Strange?"

Strange started when he heard his name. He never thought a kid would ask for him.

"Yea! The wizard!"

"I don't know, buddy, he doesn't really hang out a lot. If I see him, I'll ask him though."

"Cool!"

Scott cut in, "Alright, everyone, it's time for Cassie to go! Say goodbye!"

Clint and all his kids waved and said goodbye.

"Bye, everyone! Bye, dad, I love you!"

"I love you too, sweetheart. I'll call you again tomorrow!"

He saw Clint say goodbye to his kids also and waited for the man to finish three sets of goodbyes before ending the call.

"You know, I mean it," said Clint, turning to face Scott, "You both should come out. It's a lot of fun and it's far out of the way, as long as mom's okay with it. You look like you could use a break from this." Clint tapped on top of Scott's Ant-Man helmet.

Scott sighed, looking down at his suit.

"You're probably right."  
Clint stood and helped Scott to stand.

"I am right. You're dead tired and we both need to see our kids. Might as well make a vacation out of it, and it's cheaper than Disneyland."

Scott exhaled a laugh, "You're right. Let me talk to Maggie and Jim and get back to you?"

"Works for me," Clint agreed, "You have a cute kid."  
"Yours too. I love the idea of all the Avengers going to your house for a tea party."  
"It honestly would not be the first time," Clint responded genuinely, "Tea parties at my house are the best. Laura makes every type of pastry imaginable and breaks out the fancy loose tea. We don't mess around with tea parties."  
Clint was completely serious and Scott looked a little jealous.

"Can… can I come?"

"You guys will be the guests of honor, just know that the straw hat is Nat's and Lila will fight anyone else who tries to wear it."

"Will I be allowed to survive after seeing Natasha 'Black Widow' Romanov in a straw hat?"  
"As long as what happens at the tea party, stays at the tea party."

Clint clapped Scott on the shoulder and they both started down the hallway toward the individual rooms for each team member.

Strange knew barely anything about either man, but he felt a little guilty from having intruded on their personal moment like this. He was tempted to make an appearance next time Hawkeye was called into a battle.

Just to see if the man would actually make good on his comment about inviting him to meet his kids.

* * *

Scott & Clint

Parents

Dedicated to my parents.

Inspired by social media.


	4. Chapter 4

Through the large window, Strange noticed a flurry of movement outside on the opposite end of the compound from him. He left the building through a doorway at the end of the hall and strode across the open lawn. As he drew closer, he realized that Thor and Black Panther had suited up for an intense sparring match. Of all the Avengers to be practicing, he didn't think that it would be these two. He watched them square off, using the full space and alternating between defensive and offensive maneuvers. They seemed to be focused intensely on their movements, analytically matching each other's every move. Thor lacked any sort of weapon, so Stephen assumed that they had made an agreement on hand-to-hand combat.

Both of the proud warriors showed no signs of tiring, although they had clearly been testing their stamina for a while now. Strange was certain that they would continue this method of practice for a long time, until something small flew past him. It darted between the two men before zooming back to the compound's main building. It was just distracting enough that Thor to noticed and tripped backwards out if its way, landing on his back. He sat up from the ground squinting in the direction of its return flight, stealing the chance to catch his breath from the exercise.

"What was that?"

"If I could hazard a guess, I would say it was something of my sister's invention."

T'Challa sat down on the ground next to Thor, who continued to lay there unconcernedly.

"You leave yourself open on your right in hand-to-hand combat."

"You are right," Thor sighed, "I've grown accustomed to fighting with a weapon in my hand. I thank you for being so observant."

"Of course. I understand there are few people that can match your strength alone, so I welcome the challenge."

"You are a worthy opponent, so that even without your technology and power, you would make a worthy adversary. I admire your tactical skill."

"Ah, if you want a conversation on tactical skill, I can arrange for you to discuss it with Okoye."

"Yes, your general. I would much enjoy that discussion. She and your guards remind me of the Valkyries I grew up admiring."

"I have heard stories of your Valkyries. It is a fair comparison."

Thor pulled himself up to sit next to T'Challa.

"I have to say, I am impressed at your decision to share your technology with the rest of Midgard."  
"It was the right thing to do. I believe that Shuri has enjoyed it more than anyone, she's been speaking at a large number of scientific conventions in Manhattan this week along with an entire delegation of our top scientists. I admit I'm concerned that it's taking its toll on her as she's become a world expert overnight. Having a few days here, away from reporters and businessmen, has been rejuvenating for her."  
"I envy your relationship with your sister. My sister was a madwoman and my brother is… complicated. I love my family, they just aren't easy to live with."  
"How are your people?"

"They are doing well. Relocating to Earth has been a tremendous shift, but we have been coping with the change well. Although, I did not expect the Midgardian politics to be as complex in allowing us to take refuge here as they have been. Your guidance was much appreciated in that area."

"It was no problem, my friend. Have your leaders made a final decision on if your people will remain here?"

"They are glad to have a break from the nomadic life, but I think having a home of their own to rebuild without restriction would be in everyone's best interest for both Asgard and Midgard. Most of my people share a similar sentiment."

"Yes, maintaining your own culture and history is difficult in this world. Possible, but difficult. Do you know of another place to live?"

"I do not, but I was thinking of visiting the strange Doctor to see if he has any knowledge of a vacant realm. He seems very wise. He reminds me a little of my brother."

T'Challa looked at Thor with mild concern. Thor chuckled.

"In the sense of being practiced magicians, that is. The doctor once placed my brother in a dimensional freefall for a half an hour, it was quite amusing to see someone get the upper hand on my brother for once."

T'Challa looked impressed.

"Does Dr. Strange come to this place often? You could ask him then."

Thor shrugged.

"We invited him to the feast last night, but he declined. I had hoped to ask him then. But it is no matter, I will merely visit his home in New York on my way back to my people."

"Speaking of the feast, Shuri asked me to get the recipe of your bread, she said the density had 'scientific potential'."

"How about we go one more round and, if you win, I'll give her a full list of traditional royal Asgardian dishes."

"And if you win?"

"I receive the same list of your Wakandan delicacies, if it is not a problem with your traditions."

"We would be happy to share. It's too bad you will lose."

They both stood and shook hands.

"Very well."

They both walked to the side of the field for a drink of water before starting their combat again.

Strange watched for a little while before leaving them to their combat. He made a mental note to ask Wong about planetary vacancy. No doubt the God of Thunder would be mystified if Strange had the answer before the question was asked. He had heard rumors that the Asgardians had been transferred to Earth but only knew that they were hidden somewhere in Europe. Their true location had been kept from the media for the privacy of the refugees. He wasn't sure that he wanted any sort of credit though, so perhaps he'd find a way to let the Asgardian King seem to discover it by happenstance.

* * *

Thor & T'challa

Patriotism

Dedicated to the quiet leaders.

Inspired by conversations you can only have in person.


	5. Chapter 5

The sorcerer returned to the main building, perusing a curved hallway and ended up in a completely different kitchen. This one was much more enclosed than the open air one in the main living space and was stocked with food. Clearly this was for more day-to-day use with mismatched dishes drying, personal items left hanging from cabinets, and snacks left out on the counters.

He observed the decorations that remained from a small birthday party. There were streamers still hung from cabinets and leftover novelty plates, cups, and table decorations that were all brightly colored. Strange scoffed that all the items were Avengers-themed and wondered which team member had been subjected to the small party. He was certain if he opened the fridge, there would be some amount of leftover cake.

Strange noticed a variety of novelty coffee mugs on the drying rack next to the sink. Like the team's clothing, some had obvious owners like 'It's Not Easy Being Green", "I Like My Coffee Like I Like My Country: Strong & Free", and "Witch's Brew". There were a variety of science-themed mugs reading "Think Like A Proton: Stay Positive", "One Lab Accident Away From Being A Supervillain", and "I've Got My Ion You" that could belong to any number of the academics. A variety of bird and spider themed mugs lined a shelf near the sink. There were several dad mugs, reading "Universe's Best Dad", "#1 Dad", and "Super Dad" that had a modest place of honor on the shelf over the sink.

He crossed the room to get a closer look when he noticed the fridge was covered in many drawings, notes, and photographs, to the point where there was almost no visible surface. Most of them were reminders to buy more food or drawings from Clint's kids or children that had mailed the team pictures they had made of them saving the world. The photos were of family members and significant others. A few were of the team themselves in casual group shots or clips of photos from the Daily Bugle, including a perfectly timed shot of him. The photo was of him from behind, framed by the portal he was opening in front of him, casting him and his cloak in silhouette. He would need to see if there was a copy of that online somewhere. One that stood out to him was of the wedding for Wanda and Vision. He had been invited and had intended to go, but a transdimensional rift had preempted the event as a priority. He had sent a gift and an apologetic note congratulating the happy couple, sans an explanation of what had waylaid him. No reason to worry them as they left on their honeymoon.

To his left, there was a bulletin board similarly covered in paper, but in the form of mission updates, reminders, and a calendar covered in personal dates, events, and anniversaries. The previous night's feast was listed on the calendar and the last birthday they had celebrated was Tony Stark's, three days ago. Stephen was amused that they had thrown Stark such a small party considering the infamous stories of the man's party lifestyle. If he hadn't seen how different the man was in his personal life compared to his public persona, he would have assumed that Stark would have been displeased. Now, he was almost certain that it was likely one of the man's favorite birthdays in a very long time.

He was amused to see a thin scarlet line labelled 'Honeymoon' spanning multiple weeks, including that day. There were several postcards from all over Europe posted next to the calendar from the couple to their team, updating them on the progress of their tour. Strange lingered over the reports and updates, taking some mental notes, but mostly uninterested in their missions compared to the wealth of familiarity the living space held. He imagined that the space was often a late-night rendezvous for anyone suffering from insomnia, nightmares, or midnight cravings. He left the room reluctantly, half wishing he had visited corporally so he could snag a bite to eat in the comfortable setting.

Wanda & Vision, the Team

Familial Love

Dedicated to friends who live far away.

Inspired by Pinterest.


	6. Chapter 6

Strange discovered that he had wandered to the far end of the personal rooms and that there was another a living room at the far end of the complex. It was a cozy room with more full windows, but these were covered by long retractable curtains. The room was full of a variety of chairs and end tables curved around a large television. There was a long sectional, recliners, bean bags, and couple of rogue office chairs.

Strange sat in the chair closest to the door to observe the two oldest Avengers who were both seated squarely in front of the television. They were wearing comfortable clothes and eating lunch off folding tv trays. Steve had the remote and was scrolling through a randomly generated list of media on the screen. It appeared that it was Stark's unlimited resource of video that spanned generations, yet they didn't seem to find anything particularly interesting.

Steve kept scrolling through a patch of romantic comedies while Bucky wordlessly followed along, lazily working his way through a fresh cold cut sandwich.

Steve frowned, "I think I've already watched half of these."

"Of course you have."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're a soft-hearted romantic, Steve. Let's watch something we know we both enjoy."

Steve rolled his eyes, "Which is?"

"Any movies where they use the phrase "secure the perimeter" or "get some rest"."

Steve cracked a smile before eating a spoonful of chicken noodle soup.

"While you're right, I'm not in the mood for an action movie."

The list instantly changed to science fiction movies. Bucky groaned.

"How is this any different? I'm tired of science fiction films 'cuz I feel like I live in one. What about horror movies?"

Steve grunted noncommittally and kept scrolling through the action films.

"Did you get through that list of things that everyone recommended?"

"Eh, mostly. It's been a good guide, but it's difficult to understand what makes some of them classics, y'know? It's like I've read up on a lot of history, but I'm missing a lot of context."

Bucky hummed in agreement, having a mouth full of food. He reached a hand out, silently asking for the remote control. Steve looked at him dubiously. Bucky waved toward himself, indicating Steve should trust him. Steve sighed and pointed at the bag of cheeseballs on the couch next to Bucky. They swapped the remote for the snack and Bucky immediately switched to the regular television channels.

"I give you the remote and you're just going to flip channels?"

"Yep."

Bucky clicked past anything that looked like commercials or news. He lingered for a moment on an infomercial for an indestructible waterproof putty before he got bored and kept clicking. Steve was more interested in his food than the screen at this point. Something caught Bucky's eye, so he stopped on the Discovery Channel, where two men seemed to be engaged in a deep discussion involving a plane and a conveyor belt. Steve looked up and listened in with curiosity.

"It won't work."

"I don't know about that. I think it might."

They watched and continued to argue about the premise throughout the commercials, listening closely when the program came back on. During one commercial break, there was a clip with the same redheaded man and his beret-wearing compatriot in a montage of similar situations. Apparently, they had stumbled into a full marathon of this show, which tried to prove if myths were plausible or not. Based on practical experience and some of the science they'd picked up, they found that the show provided them a lot to debate. During one segment, Bucky started snickering.

"What is it?" Steve inquired.

"Well," Bucky grinned, "Don't they kind of remind you of Tony and Bruce?"

Steve paused for a moment of consideration before bursting into laughter. Strange was struck by the fact that he didn't think he'd ever seen Captain America laugh in this century or in person.

"Do you think we could convince Bruce to wear a beret and a mustache?"

Steve's laugh got deeper. A mischievous look in his eye, Bucky kept goading his friend.

"I bet it wouldn't take much to get Tony to dress up either."

Steve's laughs turned to almost silent convulsions at the mental image of both of them dressed up together.

"Even better, do you think we could get the Hulk to wear a beret and a mustache?"

At this thought, Steve fell off the couch, knocking over the cheeseballs onto the floor around him. His laughter had gotten so out of control that he started to cough slightly. Bucky leaned forward and looked at Steve with concern until he caught Steve's eye. Steve sighed as his laughter wound down.

"You still worry about my asthma?"

"Old habits, Steve." Bucky returned to watching the show.

"I'm more than fine. You don't have keep an ear out."

Bucky sighed, knowing that Steve wasn't going to drop it, so he continued matter-of-factly.

"We shared an apartment and I'd stay up overnight to make sure your own lungs didn't kill you on the worse nights. You would wheeze and cough but try to get as much sleep as you could. On the really bad nights, you wouldn't be able to stand up straight from being so oxygen deprived and I'd have to take you to the hospital in the middle of the night. So, forgive me if your coughing is an ingrained warning sign."

Steve appraised his friend as he rolled onto his stomach, still on the floor. He was touched that his friend cared about his health as a reflex, even if it no longer applied to them.

"You know, I looked up how they treat all the problems I used to have. Mixed into learning about all the wars, politics, everyone who was gone, all the changes; it was silver-lining to learn about all the medical advancements. All my diagnoses that used to be hopeless, not just the asthma, have been made harmless or at least manageable. Nowadays, there's portable rescue inhalers, nebulizers, medications; it's amazing."

Bucky looked over at Steve, who continued.

"To help adjust to this century, I would go and visit kids in hospitals. I'd ask them questions, their parents, doctors, nurses; everyone. I compared having heart problems back then with a twelve-year-old who has them now. It's like miracles every day."

"I know about all of this, so why the speech?"

Steve looked away and grinned sheepishly.

"I don't know if every room here is just over prepared for everything or if Tony's got a twisted sense of humor; but the first aid kit in my room has a rescue inhaler."

Steve met Bucky's eye and held his gaze.

"The medical office in this building has a portable nebulizer and the compound's emergency medical facilities could probably replace my entire respiratory system. So, if for some reason I woke up having completely regressed, I at least won't die from asthma. I might have experienced 67 years of growth overnight, completely overloading my system and triggering everything else that was wrong with me, but definitely not asthma."

Bucky's glare softened. He rolled his eyes and responded dryly.

"Point taken. I'll sleep like a baby with all that comforting knowledge."

Steve shook his head at his friend's sarcasm and looked back at the current episode. They sat in silence for a bit before Steve grinned immaturely and faked a cough. A pillow whizzed across the room, slamming Steve in the face and sending cheeseballs flying. Bucky called Steve a slew of offensive names that merely made Steve burst into laughter all over again.

The doctor left the room shaking his head at their shenanigans. Two of the most superhuman people in the world and they were goofing off like teenagers. He recalled the joy on Steve's face as he spoke of modern medicine. In his own quests for pushing beyond the limits of medical science, he got used to seeing people who were amazed by the discoveries he took for granted. Now, the opportunity to see one of the most physically fit people in the world express the same joy, for relatively common cures, made him reflect on just how life-changing things had become in only 67 years.

Their discussion of medical history had hit close to home; while he knew of the transformation Steve Rogers had undergone, he had never studied it closely. When he had been at the peak of his career, he'd written off the tales as impossible myths. From what Steve had implied, his medical history might be worth looking into. He wondered if Tony and Bruce had made an in-depth analysis of Steve's health that could benefit others, at least partially.

* * *

Steve & Bucky

Old Friends

Dedicated to my brothers.

Inspired by Mythbusters and Mel Brooks & Carl Reiner.

Special dedication to the reporters of the Capitol Gazette.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony Stark was curiously absent. Strange had not seen a trace of his presence at the compound, although he had rechecked all the labs and wandered through the other buildings beyond the main building. He hadn't ventured into any of the team's personal rooms, but his curiosity was starting to get the better of him. He went down a long hallway of unoccupied rooms, which must have been added in case of guests or additions to the team. Each suite seemed to be a pair of rooms including one living room area and a comfortable bedroom. Strange paused at the end of the hall of all the current team member's rooms when he heard people entering from the other direction.

"Do I want to know where you ducked out to at intermission?"

"It was nothing. I just stepped out to take a call from May."

Strange saw Tony and Peter Parker walking down the hallway and enter one of the rooms. Peter was clearly trying to evade Tony with no success. Stephen followed them, scoffing at the doorway labelled "Radioactive: (No Really)". Tony landed on the couch and propped his feet up, not caring about wrinkling his suit.

"Yea, and you came back smelling like a fine mist of gasoline. So, are you gonna tell me the real story or am I gonna have to turn on this TV and find out what Spider-man did for fifteen minutes tonight? Which, I have to say, I'm more curious about how you managed to get suited up, do your thing, and get back by the time the house lights went down."

Peter appeared to be judging if he could get Stark to give up and regretted that wasn't likely.

"Why is it such a big deal? I helped someone out and was back in time for the second act."  
Tony just turned and stared at Peter over the back of the couch. Peter started looking more nervous the longer Tony didn't say anything. Peter finally broke.

"I did actually get a call from May checking in, but there was a car chase coming down the street. So, I zipped up on top of the marquee, left my suit, and stopped the car, then I went back."

Tony just continued to stare at him, cocking an eyebrow. Peter gulped.

"It might have been more like a controlled crash…"

Tony shook his head slightly in a 'go on' motion.

"A web-induced controlled crash due to a slight miscalculation of physics."

Tony nodded and laid back again.

"Speaking of physics, did you get your homework finished?"

"No, I got kidnapped into going to a show in New York."

There was a pause, "Touche, but also we had a deal. Why didn't you want to tell me about the car?"

"I took care of it, everyone was fine, and the NYPD got the guy."

"But you caused some damage to the car because of miscalculation."

Peter looked nervous, "Um, yes."

"So, you didn't tell me because you didn't do everything perfectly?"

"The angle…"

"Angle-schmangle. Mistakes happen, I'd rather know so we can work on it or nip problems in the bud. Got it?"

Peter smiled nervously, "Got it."

"Alright, so back to the bigger problem. Where's your homework? I wanna check it before you head back to school tomorrow."

"Um..."

"Kid, we had a deal. You could go with me tonight if you finished the homework before we left. May's gonna have my head if you get a bad grade on this one. Her anger is only cute when it's directed at someone else."

"Oh, gross. stop."

"Homework. Now."

"It's 12:30 in the morning."

"Yea, and you were up until 2:00 yesterday just to see if you could change the color of your webbing without changing the consistency, so the way I see it is that you still have an hour and half before you pass out."

"But..."

"Or we can set a bedtime of 12:30 from here on out. Your sleep is important to me, Petey."

The lack of irony in his tone made Peter wary of trying to push the matter.

"Oh, shut up. I'll go get it."

Tony settled in as Peter disappeared to go grab his backpack.

"So which homework is this?"

"English literature," came the reply muffled by the door. Tony made a face, he preferred helping with the science homework, but English wasn't too bad. He'd found a pattern to research papers early on and additionally found a use for a well-phrased response when people treated him like some spoiled rich kid. He'd found that replying with a well-worded soliloquy or an analytic letter to the editor to anyone who implied he'd paid his way through his degrees was so much more effective.

"Research paper?"

"Book report."

"Which one? To Kill a Mockingbird? Lord of the Flies?"

There was a pause before Peter answered. He must be changing into pajamas.

"Um. It's Hamlet."

Tony waited until Peter opened the door.

"So, the reason there was a considerable lack of complaints by a teenager having to go see a Shakespeare play with me tonight was because he was trying to skip reading the play?"

Peter looked at Tony with cheery false confidence.

"I figured it be easier to watch it in real time than to labor through reading it and you needed back up."

"Kid, it was just schmoozing, and you should have been taking notes if that's what you were going to do."

"You asked me to come and don't worry, it's all up here!"

Peter tapped the side of his head. Tony looked at him like he was an idiot, so Peter quickly sat down and opened his laptop. Tony held back from rolling his eyes before plopping down next to Peter, who was staring at the blank page and trying to form his thoughts. At least, that's what it looked like for next ten minutes.

"You don't remember anything thematically, do you?"

"If I opened SparkNotes right now, would you pretend you didn't see it?"

"Kid, first off, I want to say that seeing the show is definitely better than trying to read it, but taking notes would have saved both of us a lot of trouble. What stood out to you?"

"There was a lot of death. Like, a lot. I mean, the whole thing starts off with a ghost. How much fake blood do you think they used?"

Tony ignored the question and gestured to the open Word document/ Peter started writing down the notes as they talked. Well, Peter talked and Tony acted like a sounding board, keeping his ideas to himself so Peter could reach conclusions on his own.

"Revenge was definitely a big part. Especially in regard to fathers and sons. Was Hamlet actually insane? I couldn't figure that part out."

"He pretends to be insane for that bit where he's trying to trick Claudius, but then again, he's also seeing the ghost of his father, so it's a topic of debate."

"So, what I'm hearing is that's a good topic for a paper?"

"As long as you can reach your word limit and make a compelling analysis, then sure."

Peter typed out a basic outline while Tony played on his phone. He put a parental notice on SparkNotes just in case. It was late at night, but considering they had just seen the show, Tony didn't think it was too harsh on him.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yea, kid?"

"How do you know this play so well?"

"Because when I wrote about it in high school, I got called out by my teacher for coming to the wrong conclusions."

"How so?"

"Write the paper and I'll tell you, but suffice to say, my need to prove I was right sent me into a deep Shakespearian spiral for two weeks."

"That's a cheap trick to get me to write, isn't it?"

"No, I want you to come up with your own ideas before you consider my thoughts or anyone else's."

Peter sighed and went back to typing.

"Not to mention, if you used my ideas and get a low grade, you'll blame me."

Peter rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn't give Tony any other reaction. Peter kept typing up his analysis, referring to his hard copy of the play for quotes. Every now and then, he'd ask Tony for an opinion. Tony shifted between providing information based on the points in the plot and playing a little bit of the devil's advocate when it came to testing Peter's own theories.

"To a certain degree, you have to approach analyzing Hamlet as if you were an actor trying to play him honestly. Like, think of how you would react if your Aunt May married one of your street weirdos, but didn't know they were your nemesis or if you killed your girlfriend's father by complete accident."

Peter's eyes got wide and Tony knew he'd hit a chord as the spider kid began typing without pausing. He knew Peter had some traumatic stuff he was dealing with, so he didn't want to make any real life parallels, but he figured that was the kind of stuff that Peter might have cooked up in his own brain in terms of superhero worries. Tony started to feel himself nodding off, so he got up and headed to the door. Peter looked up anxiously.

"Just heading to the kitchen for some hot chocolate, want some?"

Peter nodded sleepily; Tony recognized the same determination to stay awake and finish that he would get in his shop. He decided on the way down the hall that Peter was getting as many marshmallows as he could fit in the mug before they started falling off. He turned into the kitchen to find Clint sitting there working on the latest mission report and eating a bowl of frosted mini Wheaties. He grabbed a mug off the shelf over the sink and one mug cover in the 'Itsy-Bitsy Spider' lyrics.

"You guys still working on upgrades? It's nearly 2:00."

"Nope, Hamlet."

"Did the show run late?"

"No, as it turns out that's what his book report that's due tomorrow is on."

"Ah, the old leaving-it-for-the-last-minute-so-you-don't-have-to read-a-play method," Clint chuckled, "My oldest is just starting book reports and it's a doozy just getting him to read the little easy readers."

"Yea, I mean, at least I know the plays pretty well and he's a bright kid, so it hasn't been like pulling teeth."

Tony willed the hot water to boil faster, as much as he liked Clint, it was odd to be talking to the assassin about book reports.

"What topic did he go with?"

Tony internally questioned why he didn't have a hot water tap in this kitchen.

"Um, he settled on analyzing Hamlet's madness. Y'know, how much he was faking versus actually going crazy."

"That's a pretty detailed topic, good on him."

"Yea, I had him think about it in terms of how he would feel in Hamlet's shoes. He took to it really quick."

"With as much as he talks to himself and Karen, I'm not surprised he'd take to a character that monologues all over the place."

Finally, the water was ready, and Tony mixed in the instant cocoa. He started hunting down the marshmallows.

"I tried not to draw too many comparisons, just because he's already been through a lot. Didn't want to dig up anything distressing this late at night."

"Marshmallows are next to the fridge, Bruce tried to hide them from Thor. I'm sure Peter appreciates you staying up with him, I doubt May has that kind of time with work."

Tony whacked his head on the cabinet door, trying to get to the marshmallows.

"She said as much; Pepper and I took her out to lunch to figure this whole situation out with him being Spider-man and also being a teenager."

"Pepper's idea?"

"More like a mutual 'let's figure this out' but Pepper spearheaded actually making it happen. Basically, I had to agree to be a mature responsible adult."

Tony put a handful of marshmallows in his mug and dumped a heap of the sweets onto Peter's mug. Clint watched him amusedly.

"You going to let him sleep anytime soon?"

"He got on a train of thought and was typing the conclusion when I left. I figure I'll do a quick edit and send him to bed."

Tony picked up both mugs, slightly regretting the tower of sugar.

"Make sure you get some sleep too."

"Will do."

"Hey?"

"Kinda got my hands full, Barton."

"What's your opinion of a team vacation?"

"More specific?"

"My farm."

Tony looked thoughtful, "Not a bad idea. I was worried you were going to say something like Disney World or a cruise ship."

Clint gave Tony a grin of masochistic glee, "Could you imagine Thor?"

"Can you imagine Bruce? Let's stick to the middle of nowhere."

Tony left before Barton could come up with anymore bad ideas. He managed the walk back down the hallway and turned the corner to find Peter passed out on the arm of the couch, his laptop laying open in front of him. Tony looked from the boy to the hot chocolate he was holding and sighed. He placed his cup on the table to the right of where he'd been sitting before and set down Peter's on the opposite end, out of arm's reach in case he woke up suddenly.

Tony sat on the couch and picked up the laptop. He sipped his hot chocolate, proofreading slowly and making small adjustments. All the analysis was strong, so all Tony was fixing was some spelling and grammar errors. He made a note to give Peter a crash course on commas. He made sure the format and word count matched the report requirements before saving the file and closing the laptop. The nearly quiet sound woke Peter, who drowsily sat up and instinctively looked at the time. He jumped when he noticed Tony and that he'd fallen asleep on the couch.

Tony whispered gently, "Relax, Pete, I proofed your paper and it's ready to go. You should probably crawl in bed and get a couple more hours of sleep."

Peter nodded and noticed the mug of marshmallows. He scoffed and picked it up, sleepily picking up one at a time and eating it. Tony watched the young man, whose hair was sticking up and reclining on the cushions. Peter began to speak, his voice slightly scratchy from sleeping.

"Is there any hot chocolate under this?"  
Tony threw a small pillow at him and he caught it instinctively. Setting the pillow down, he took a marshmallow and tossed it in his mouth. He did this a couple times; Tony was bemused by this application of his spider instincts. Peter picked up a couple and looked at Tony cheekily.

"Really? We're going do this?"

"I'll honestly be impressed if you manage to catch one."

"Do I need to list all of the ways I am exceptionally coordinated? What part of 'I am Iron Man' do you not comprehend?"

Peter didn't answer but chucked the marshmallow at Tony, who barely had time to catch it. Tony cheered the personal victory and it became an impromptu game. They went back-and-forth, especially after Peter threw an entire handful at his mentor at once, giving Tony ammo of his own. Tony finally threw in the towel when he tossed one up in the air and Peter caught it by jumping up to stick onto the roof.

"Alright, I'll say you won this time, but you really have to get some sleep."

Peter nodded and scurried along the roof into his room. Tony rolled his eyes and followed him in to put the laptop back in Peter's backpack. Peter dropped from the roof onto his bed and set his alarm. Tony put the backpack on the chair near the door, so it wouldn't get left behind. Despite all the sugar, Peter was already yawning as he pulled the blankets up around him. His high metabolism working in his favor in this case.

"I, uh, I don't know if I'll be up to see you off tomorrow, so I'll see you over the weekend probably."

"Yea, I think May wanted to see this place, if you don't mind if she visits too," he said hazily.

"Oh, yea, that'd be great. We can introduce her to everyone. Maybe get Thor to bake something."  
Peter laughed, "They have about the same cooking styles."

"I mean, if you consider inedible a 'style'."

They both chuckled before Peter seemed to finally settle in.

"Good night, Pete, have a good day at school tomorrow."

"Good… hey, wait, you never told me what happened with your teacher."

"Can it wait? I really don't want May here on the weekend yelling at me for keeping you up."

"Okay, but I'm gonna remind you. Good night, Tony."

"Night, kid."

Peter turned out his lamp and for a split second, Tony's silhouette was visible in the doorway before he left. Strange followed Tony as he picked up some of the marshmallows that had scattered around the room and dumped them in the trash. Tony took the mugs down the kitchen, now devoid of archers. As he washed, dried, and returned the mugs to their shelves, Strange noticed that the genius looked exhausted now that no one else was around. He caught a heartfelt grin cross the man's face as he remembered to put the bag of marshmallows back in the cabinet where Bruce had hidden them.

Tony let out a verbal stream of reminders to the computer system as he doodled Yorick's skull from Hamlet on the dry erase board. He finally put down the marker and left the kitchen, where Strange watched him walk down to his room just past Peter's door. While Strange knew that there was more to Stark than met the eye, it was humbling to see him be so human firsthand. It was easy to see how good people like Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, and Peter would take to Tony so closely despite his public persona, if this was the kind of person he was in private. Strange was tempted to stay through the night to see if Stark would finish his story about why he studied Shakespeare to Peter before he left, but the wizard was starting to feel drained from using his powers for such an extended period.

* * *

He returned to his presence in the New York sanctum, with everything unchanged around him aside from the time of day. His back ached slightly from having sat in a meditation pose all day, but he knew it would feel better after some rest. He got some food to eat and conjured his own hot chocolate to stifle the craving. He contemplated the people he'd studied that day while he ate. While he felt a little silly to admit it to himself, he was somewhat surprised that each of them, regardless of their power or origins, were all fairly warm and friendly people. It was refreshing to see them away from the heat of battle and the stresses that come with carrying the world on their shoulders. He was infinitely more comfortable with the idea of joining them in future endeavors and getting to know each of the one-on-one. Perhaps he'd even join them one day and could see what it was like to be an Avenger from the inside.

* * *

Tony & Peter (and Clint)

Adopted Family

Dedicated to my mentor.

Inspired by conversations with my mentor.


End file.
